My Mind

My mind has been a-bubbling,
Without even being fed.
For I have failed to send,
Thoughts into my head.

So in my ways of thinking,
I saw some clouds of black.
And when I tried to shift them,
They turned and came right back.

The cat was out there singing,
I tried to catch his words.
And in those English phrases,
It sounded like the birds.

The mail-box had an opening,
That ran right through the tin.
I mailed a letter yesterday,
And closed with safety-pins.

My mind has lost a cog or two,
I used a lot of glue.
To stitch remembrances back in place,
Where the new and tender grew.


E.P. 1908 - 1989